


Four Times Tony Puked on Steve and One Time He Didn't

by braindelete



Category: Avengers (Comics), Iron Man (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Pre-Slash, Sick Tony, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braindelete/pseuds/braindelete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a little vomit between boyfriends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Tony Puked on Steve and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for Invincible Iron Man World's Most Wanted and Captain America Reborn

4

Flying a one man army suit of armor was probably not one of the intended uses for the human body. The entire new sensation of motion sickness accentuated by the natural reaction to physical exertion...

"Tony?"

Steve voice was gentle with concern, placing a hand on Tony's armor-clad shoulder.

Tony removed his helmet to get air and not because of the wave of nausea that suddenly seemed overwhelming as it churned in his stomach like a bubbling cauldron ready to overflow. Steve removed his cowl in response, looking over Tony with more attention than before. He responded with a weak smile.

Steve Rogers was not so easily dissuaded, wrapping an arm around Tony in support and guiding Tony to one of the chairs on the quinjet. Tony sat with little argument closing his eyes and wishing he could will away the ill feeling, at least long enough to get out of the armor and convince Captain America that he wasn't sick or in need of a nap. Well, maybe a nap didn't sound too bad...

"You look a little pale... are you injured?"

Tony replied with a heave, lurching forward before unleashing a stream of vomit. Steve instinctively stepped backward, but not before being sprayed with the upchuck.

"Sorry..." Tony coughed. "It's the body still adjusting to the flight stunts in the armor..."

Steve shook his head. "It's alright. Get out of that thing and maybe lie down for awhile. And you're getting the dry cleaning bill."

Tony laughed.

 

3

The door nearly slammed shut behind him and Tony laughed in response to the noise.

He knew the others were likely asleep but his inebriated brain didn't seem to care much. The woman he'd brought home with him had fallen asleep on the way home, so he'd told the cab driver to just... continue on to her address.

He stopped, looking at the stairs with disdain. They were always a challenge when drunk. One steady step, then the other as the ascending staircase curved and wobbled like some fun house maze. He stumbled a bit over the the runner before catching himself with little grace in time to save himself from face-planting with the edge of a stair to the eyes. Tony looked at the rest of the stairs, hanging the on the banister heavily, shuffling up the remaining trek.

Tony was positive that this hallway hadn't always been on an Escher angle but then again, he wasn't exactly sure of much. He stumbled through and to his room, hitting the door with his body to open it with a smack. Not time for bed, time to vomit.

He skidded into the bathroom on his knees, barely making it to the toilet with his heave.

Steve woke almost instantly at the sound of the door slam and gradually brought to by the laughter and the thudding up the stairs. He sighed, knowing that it was Stark returning home from another benefit with more alcohol in his stream then blood. He scrubbed his hands over his face before getting up, certain to make sure that Tony didn't embarrass himself by ending up passed out in the hallway... again.

He heard the retching from down the hall and let out another deep sigh, making his way toward the master bedroom, to find Tony hunched over the toilet paying homage to the porcelain god.

"Hey..." Tony managed, with a hiccup.

"Hey... had a bit too much tonight, huh?" Steve offered gently.

Steve took a seat beside Tony after running a cloth under cold water, placing it like a compress on the back of Tony's neck. Tony gave a weak and sloppy smile in his drunken haze, looking over Steve with unfocused eyes. Steve returned the smile, though it was forced ands lightly concerned, not that Tony would notice that. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was another spew, covering Steve's shirt and lap.

Tony looked apologetic and then laughed from the surprise of it.

"I'm sorry. I've had a lot... to drink." He hung his head into the toilet.

Steve made a face and grabbed a towel to clean himself off.

"Think you're done? You should get to bed..."

 

0

Steve removed his cowl and stood in the debriefing room, looking over the motionless form of Iron Man with a bit of concern. Tony could be passed out upright in that armor and he wouldn't know. The man hadn't spoken or moved since they'd arrived at the mansion.

"Oh... that's fucking gross..." the metallic voice filled the room.

Steve made a face. "Are you okay?"

"I puked in the helmet..."

 

2

It was impossible to believe that Tony Stark was standing upright after the beating he'd taken. The armor had disappeared, leaving him in nothing but the form hugging gold under-sheath. It would have made Steve uncomfortably turned on if he weren't reeling from being horrified. He didn't think he'd ever be used to the way Extremis had made Tony... super-human.

Tony was leaning on him heavily, insisting that he didn't need to go to the infirmary. He was rather vicious in his insistence, despite the trail of blood marring the corner of his mouth and trailing through his goatee like the Nile. He looked at Steve, offering a lopsided smirk.

"I'm fine... really. Healing factors are great that way. I'm glad I finally get to play with the--" he coughed, violently.

Steve steadied Tony as his body shook from the violent wracking his body took from the cough. He pulled his hand away from where he'd covered the outburst, to see his hand splattered with blood. Tony didn't flinch but Steve felt his stomach turn. He didn't like the look of that one bit and the fact that Tony seemed so nonchalant made it that much worse.

"We're taking you to the infirmary, right now, you probably have massive internal bleeding..."

Tony waved it off. "I'm fine. Really. Don't worry so--"

He was interrupted by another, equally violent cough, followed by a near explosion of blood from his mouth. He tried to cover it with his hand, but wasn't nearly fast enough, spilling it out over Steve's uniform. He looked a bit sheepish and pulled away.

"That's it, Stark... you just vomited blood. I order you to go to the infirmary."

Tony shook his head and brushed it off, walking off on his own. He waved his hand over his shoulder clearly ignoring the order as if it had come from someone unimportant.

"I'm fine. Extremis will take care of it..."

Steve watched him go, knowing that for now, he'd been defeated.

The next morning, Tony showed no trace of injury.

 

1

They hadn't expected to find Tony Stark alive after all he'd been through. He'd disappeared off the face of the earth it seemed, after being on the run from Norman Osborn. No one had heard from him since he and Pepper had been separated by Madame Masque and her crazy ultimatums. He knew that Tony didn't remember a lot, not even him. He knew that Tony was physically a mess but all that paled in comparison to the fact that Tony Stark was alive.

Steve was sketchy on the details of what he'd missed while he'd been trapped in time, but that didn't matter. For now, he was going to focus on helping Tony get well again and remember who he was. They could deal with what was between them later.

It was Steve's turn to sit with Stark in the private room at the Baxter Building, watching the man as he slept fitfully. His skin pale and clammy, his hair patchy in re-growth and his body terribly frail from under-use and malnourishment.

He was surprised when Tony woke. His eyes held the kind of fear Steve hadn't seen since he was back on the battle fields of WWII. He was uncertain, terrified, vaguely lost. He'd never seen Tony like that before.

"Hey... you're okay..." Steve offered, gently putting a hand on Tony's knee.

Tony shook his head and tried to reach for the trash can, instead Steve felt the wet warmth of spew on the front of his shirt, making the fabric stick to his skin. He looked at Tony, who instantly appeared apologetic, before offering a soft smile. He moved the receptacle to catch whatever Tony had left to vomit, then handed him a glass to rinse the taste from his mouth.

"I'm sorry... I don't even remember your name and I just puked on you," Tony sighed, and then gave a half-hearted laugh. "That's so rude."

Steve chuckled a little. "It's okay... I assure you, it isn't the first time."

Tony seemed to accept that in his sudden exhaustion and laid back against the bed, resting instantly into the cushioning of the mattress. Steve stroked Tony's short hair as Tony closed his eyes and drifted back into sleep.

"I never thought I'd say this... but I hope it's not the last."

 

Fin


End file.
